Possessive Tendencies
by Minirose96
Summary: When the site of an illegal ring of omega sex traders is raided, several Omegas are freed. But one of them is not like the rest. Molly Hooper, found chained and beaten, has a fighting spark. Sherlock notices, and he wants to know why. The only problem is, the leader of the ring saw the spark as well, and he is just as interested. Who is more possessive? A/B/O dynamics
1. A Captive Start

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**A Captive Start**

Molly couldn't say how long she had been imprisoned. It could have been a few weeks, or months, or even years. She just didn't know.

She knew that it hadn't always been like this. She knew that before, she had been doing actual work in an actual job, helping people. She knew she had been free, and the comfort of the memories of those times, as small as it was, was the only thing that kept her sane some days.

Now, she couldn't even remember where she had worked. She had the vaguest memory of the scent of rubbing alcohol and rubber gloves, and of that distinct smell that only sterile places held. Perhaps a hospital, then. She wanted so badly to remember more, but somewhere during her detainment, she had blocked out several memories of her time before it. A coping mechanism, she accepted in the same way she accepted everything now: with indifference.

Not that any of that mattered now. That life might as well have been a hundred years ago compared to her life now, the only life she had known for what felt like an eternity. An eternity of pain, and desperation, and the unending cycle of the two repeating over and over, until she felt certain she would go insane.

Now, she was reduced to the lowly status of a literal bitch in heat for her captors and their clients. She wasn't even allowed proper clothes, just a giant shirt to cover her when she wasn't _in use. _The term sickened her, even after months of hearing it. Perhaps _because _she had been hearing it for so long.

The fact was, Molly was an omega, a person who, every two months turned into little more than a writhing mass of sexual want and desire. In the real world, her classification didn't matter. She was an equal citizen, able to work in whatever career she chose.

In the real world, before all this, she had been on suppressants, a prescription drug that halted her heats and allowed her to live normally. She had dreams, of finding the alpha right for her, the dominant and protective nature to her submissive and loving nurture. That dream was long forgotten now.

Now, she was trapped in a small, dark room. The only furniture was a bed, for use when she was. . . being used by a client. The only light source came from a small crack in the door at the top of the stairs that led down into the room. It was her only way of knowing whether it was day or night. No windows, trapped underground, this was physical and physiological torture.

Because of her captors, and the drug they injected her with on a weekly basis, she was forced to endure torturous pseudo-heats twice as often as her body normally would have been able to handle. In truth, her body _couldn't _handle the drug and it's effects, especially after years on the suppressants, but no one seemed to care. Her cried were ignored, until they faded, and she was forced to adapt.

As if the forced heats weren't enough, she was made to share them with clients - alphas who paid to knot her through the heats. At first, she had struggled, and screamed against the unwanted intrusion, but they were always bigger, stronger, and she never had a chance. Every time though, she fought until she was tired, and simply couldn't fight anymore. The alphas used an abused her, fulfilling whatever sick fantasies took their fancy, and no one ever stopped them. Everything was fair game.

Except one rule, the only limit she ever heard, faint words muttered between client and captor. Do Not Bond. How she wished sometimes that rule would be broken, because then she'd be free, no matter what kind of freedom it was. She'd be satisfied with death at this point. Still, no one ever tried, not once, so her captivity continued.

Later, when somehow or another they got wind of her secret want, they beat her for it, beat her and screamed the rule at her as they did so, until she was screaming the words back, and apologizing for ever having had such despicable thoughts.

When they left her, awake but barely so, beaten and bruised and 'useless for at least a couple weeks," as they spat at her before leaving the room, she could still hear the mantra in her mind.

Do Not Bond.

Do Not Allow Anyone To Bond With You.

You Will Never Bond.

This was her life now.

Molly Hooper, captured omega in an illegal ring of omega sex trafficking and forced prostitution.

And there was no way out.

* * *

Chapter 1. . . . yup, cheerful, full of light, definitely rounding out to be a happy little ditty :3

This story will be filled with several bit-not-good elements, so the squeamish should not read it. This is the warning for the whole story, because if I put warnings on everything, there'd be more warning than story. Sorry!

Until Next Time! :*


	2. Unchained

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Unchained**

It seemed like just another ordinary day in the vicious cycle Molly's life had become since her abduction. Already, her single meal of the day had been brought - they had to keep her strength up after all - and she knew it wouldn't be long until they came in to give her the shot that would eventually trigger her heat. At first, she had tried to resist, tried to fight against the injection and pain, tried to run, but all that earned her was a chain leash around her neck, attached to the wall, and any further attempts at fighting only led to more pain. It all seemed so pointless, when fighting only brought hurt, so eventually, she stopped resisting. The shot, at least.

She felt pathetic. she had begun to crave the door opening because that was one of the only times she ever saw another person, regardless of the circumstances. It didn't matter that they only gave her frosty glares, hurtful words, and insulting sneers as they gripped her arm and forced the needle into her already scarred flesh, littered with marks from several past injections. She just needed to see another living person.

The knowledge that she relied on these horrible people for her very sanity sickened her, but still she waited for the creaking steps that would signify the time for that short glimpse of another person, as cruel as that person may be.

It never came.

Instead, the silence was broken by shouting above her, and stomping feet as the men scrambled for whatever positions they were going for. Gunshots followed soon after.

Molly didn't know how to react but with unvoiced terror. Even screaming seemed like a horrible idea. Who knew what was going on, or what would happen if they found her. She shifted into a corner of the room, the darkest place she could reach with the chain, and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest as the chaos above continued.

Silence, cruel and slightly alarming in it's own right, came just as suddenly as the noise. Molly didn't move from her huddled position in the corner, simply waiting, and listening.

Footsteps, some shuffling, others quick and assured, began to pace and walk around upstairs, but they were all new patterns. She didn't recognize the familiar stomping of the men who usually walked around above her. She heard doors opening all around, and the whines of other omegas joined the footsteps. Some, from the scent, were in heat, but all of them, regardless of that, were led away as they were uncovered.

Molly began to wonder if they were being moved to a new facility. She didn't like that idea any more than she had liked the gunshots. Still, it was almost reassuring to hear the other omegas who were held with her. She had known they were there, but she'd never been allowed to interact with them, and the only evidence of their existence had been the faint scents lingering on her captors.

Voices rose and fell, footsteps faded and returned, but still none were familiar. She didn't like the unfamiliar anymore, and everything happening now was definitely unfamiliar territory.

Still, her dislike of the situation didn't stop three different sets of footsteps from congregating at her door, and for them to eventually open it and begin the descent into the room.

The voices were loud and clear now as they approached, and she could hear them. . . arguing?

"Sherlock, you can't be serious. Lestrade, tell him we've got all the omegas present and accounted for in the building." The first voice came, a bit snappish, but it didn't hold the power of an alpha. Since she could scent them, she knew that there was a single beta and two alphas coming down. That, she decided, was the beta.

"I've got to agree, Sherlock. We've already found all eighteen omegas we were looking for here, and no one else can pick up the scent you're following." The second voice, Lestrade, she put the name from the first man with the voice. She could hear a bit of the control, definitely an alpha.

"You're both wrong. This scent is being masked by the prior omega, obviously. The omega is down here, I'm certain of it."

A shiver ran down Molly's spine. Even if her nose hadn't already told her that the third man had to be an alpha, there was no mistaking that deep, self-assured tone as anything other than pure dominance and control. He was almost certainly leading the proverbial pack.

Molly swallowed quietly when they came into view. The first alpha, Sherlock she guessed, stepped off of the last step and began to scan the small room quickly and precisely as the other two joined him in the room.

She felt extremely exposed in her pitiful hiding place, and she wished she could just sink into the wall, just get away as his steely gaze got closer.

"Sherlock," the beta began - she didn't think his name had been spoken yet - "There's no one here. Maybe she was moved somewhere else, and it's just her lingering scent you've got."

"Shut up John!" Sherlock snapped over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. "If you would just listen instead of telling me I'm wrong, even your undeveloped hearing would be able to pick up her whines."

Molly hadn't even been aware of the soft whine coming from the back of her throat until he pointed it out. She stopped quickly, placing her hand over her mouth as well, but the room had already gone silent and three sets of eyes were now staring directly at her darkened corner.

It was Sherlock, of course, who locked onto her first, a smug smile on his face.

Lestrade focused in on her shortly after, and his face softened as he spoke. "Come on out, we want to help." His voice was calm and kind, but she didn't trust soft voices and sweet words anymore, so she just shook her head vigorously.

Her gaze flicked from one man to the other, her mind screaming at her to run while the door was open. The heavy weight of the chain leash around her neck was more prominent than ever in her mind, telling her why exactly that idea would never work, even if she could somehow get past them.

"Are you hurt?" The beta - John - asked. His was the only voice completely neutral except for the concern in it. His was without the dominant pull. Again, she shook her head, though much more slowly this time, begging with her eyes for them to just leave her alone.

"Then get up, and come here." A clear command from the most dominant man in the room, possibly the most dominant man she had seen in a long time, sent a shiver down her spine. Her mind told her one single word.

_Obey._

"Sherlock!"

Even as John scolded the unrepentant alpha for his command, Molly rose to her feet. With her gaze locked on the ground in front of her, she slowly walked until she stood directly in front of him. The chain clinked loudly as it dragged on the ground, trailing after her before settling as she stood still.

"Good. I'm going to unchain you now. You're not to run, understood?" Sherlock said in the same tone he had used earlier, another clear order.

She nodded without a word, and he pulled a key from his pocket as he turned the collar around on her neck to get at the latch.

Vaguely, she heard the other alpha ask when he got the key, since it had been in his pocket, but since Sherlock ignored him, she did too.

The links of the chain rattled and clinked as the collar slipped from her neck, and fell to the ground with a clatter that resonated around the room.

"Tell me your name." Again, that same controlling tone.

"Molly Hooper." Came her instant reply. "Who are you?" As soon as the question passed her lips, she flinched away, expecting to be hit for it.

The blow never came. Instead, a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. The beta.

"You're not going to be hurt, Molly. We're here to help. The bossy prick is Sherlock Holmes. The other alpha is Greg Lestrade, he's a Deputy Inspector, one of the good guys. I'm John Watson. Now that you know us, how about we get you out of here?"

"I. . . They'll be angry, if I go." She muttered, swallowing heavily.

Sherlock sighed loudly. "John, coddling her is getting nowhere. Molly, there is no need to cower. Frankly, it's annoying and distracting, considering you smell like absolute terror. If you didn't already know, this is a _raid_, as in, safety, with nice policemen and everything." The sarcasm rolled off his tongue. "Now, enough of this useless chatter. Upstairs, now."

Molly ducked her head and nodded. "Yes sir." She said meekly, ducking away from John's hand and heading straight for the staircase.

There was a resonating SMACK behind her, and a growled "What the hell Sherlock?! You can't just boss her around with your damn dominating alpha tone, she's just - "

"I know what she's been through John, but that doesn't make her an invalid. She's the only one who wasn't in heat or practically leaping at us as soon as the door was opened. She is the only we found collared. That means something, and I'm trying to figure out what, so shut up." Sherlock snapped.

Molly heard all this, but she didn't dare turn around, afraid that any moment a fight would break out. After all, that's what happened when any of the beta underlings disobeyed the alphas in command with her captors.

She waited at the top of the stairs, just out of the way of the door, eyes glued to the floor. She felt ashamed as she thought about what the alpha had said. They _knew _what had been done to her, _knew _she was ruined. No one would want her now. She'd be alone.

No bond.

No mate.

The thoughts actually made her want to cry, but at least she was free.

At least she was free.

So she vowed, no matter what else life threw at her, she'd be happy for that fact.

* * *

Chapter 2! Whoo!

So, I actually have acquired a beta for this story, since it's unfamiliar ground for me (And I'm sick of reviewing a Chapter AFTER posting and finding several typing errors XD) so, here's lovely round of applause for the wonderful **cumberburch** on Tumblr. You're the best darling 3

And of course, thank you so much to **Renaissancebooklover108**, **IceQueenForLife**, **Mizjoely**, **Freewaygirl**, **Nita**, **Reina434**, **readxme**, and **Rocking the Redhead**. It feels amazing to see some familiar readers from other stories, and I always love reading your comments 3

Until Next Time! :*


	3. Questions

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Questions**

Shortly after Molly was sent up by Sherlock, Lestrade followed, leaving the other two below to examine the room she had been held in.

He moved to stand in front of her and cleared his throat, an unsure, slightly awkward sound coming from an alpha.

Molly, whose gaze had stayed locked on the floor throughout, finally allowed her eyes to creep upwards until her stare rested on his jaw. It was high enough that she could read his face, and low enough that it couldn't be mistaken as insubordination or claiming equal ground.

She felt eyes on her from other unfamiliar faces around the room. The scent of the unfamiliar was everywhere. Strange alphas, unknown betas and the stink of other filthy omegas in forced heat surrounded her. The air smelled almost sour with it.

With an over-sized shirt as her only cover, she felt exposed in the sudden light coming through the windows and doors around her. The soft glow of early dusk pored through the windows, and even that was so bright she had to narrow her eyes slightly to stop any over-stimulation to her pupils.

She felt like a live wire waiting to short-circuit. Thankfully, no one new approached her. She wasn't sure how much more 'new' she could take.

Lestrade cleared his throat again to capture her attention. She flinched slightly, expecting a reprimand for having allowed her attention to move away from the alpha in front of her.

Instead, a calm voice, though still full of the underlying hint of dominance all alphas possessed, spoke to her. "Miss Hooper, I know this is a shock, but I need to ask you a few questions. Quite frankly, you're the only one we've found in any shape to answer them, and it would go a long way to ensuring things like this at least didn't happen as often. "

Molly could hear the honesty in his voice. He hadn't even tried to say they could put a stop to this entirely. And he had the decency to look abashed for the fact.

It was that honesty that had her nodding slowly. She nipped at her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth as she took a deep breath to steel herself against whatever the questions might be.

"What do you want to know?" She asked, swallowing slightly. Her voice cracked. She hated how soft she sounded, how weak. Still, she kept her eyes on his jaw, unable to raise them higher.

"Do you have any idea how long you've been here?" Came the first question.

There was a long pause as she tried to figure that out. It was hard to tell time when there was no real signs other than a sliver of light through a crack under the door. How many heats had she gone through? Twenty-three, but they came a lot more often than her normal cycle, because of the drugs she'd been given. It was impossible to tell how much more often. In the end, she shook her head. "I don't know. . . a while, I suppose." she replied.

"It's been approximately eighteen months, judging from the strength of the scent in the room and your own physical condition."

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin when that deep baritone voice spoke just behind her, and she couldn't stop the little squeal of shock and surprise as she whipped around to face him. Stuck between two alphas, she fidgeted nervously, not sure who to face, the one technically speaking to her, or this man, this dominant man whose voice seemed to pull attention to him.

She met his cocky gaze with a glare for just a moment before flinching away, having realized her mistake. Don't meet an alpha's eyes. Bad. She immediately looked to the ground, waiting for the reprimand that never came.

At least, not directed at her.

"Bloody hell Sherlock, quit scaring the poor girl!" Lestrade scolded over her head. The tension between the two was suddenly palpable, and she felt, quite literally, stuck in the middle.

It was John who saved the day in the end, stepping out from behind Sherlock and scowling at both of them in turn. "Boys, having a dominance battle now doesn't make either of you look big. Sherlock, you _do _need to stop startling the girl, especially when you're doing it on purpose. Lestrade, you snapping at him with her caught between you two isn't going to calm her down either." He muttered something about 'bloody alphas' under his breath, but it was completely ignored in favor of the words spoken out loud next.

"Molly would like to speak for herself, actually."

The instant the words passed her lips, the bickering and all other sound in the small group ceased, and once again three sets of eyes were locked onto her. It was not a good feeling. She did manage to feel the smallest gleam of smug pride at still having the ability to stand up for herself, and elicit varying levels of shock and surprise from the men around her.

"So, umm. . ." she stammered. The problem for her was that now that she had their attention, she didn't have the slightest clue what to do with it. She had just wanted them to stop fighting over her reactions as if she wasn't there.

She cleared her throat nervously and turned back to Lestrade, since she had been speaking to him first. Her gaze settled just below his eyes this time as she spoke. "Eighteen months sounds as close as I could get. . . What other questions did you want to ask me?"

She could feel Sherlock's eyes boring into the back of her head, but she refused to squirm under his gaze or look back at him. Strangely, she felt some sort of smugness of his own in the gaze. She didn't know why, and Lestrade's next words knocked her out of that train of thought before she could give herself the chance to over-examine it.

"Right. I know this is difficult, but what can you tell me about the day you were abducted?"

Molly cast her eyes down again, but there was a notable difference between this instance and the last. Before, lowering her eyes had been a nervous motion to avoid eye contact. Now, it was simply to think.

She pushed a clump of her hair from her face as she thought, and scowled slightly. It was greasy, knotty, unbrushed, and generally uncared for. Appearances hadn't exactly been a priority to her captors. Every two weeks at best, she'd been allowed to wash up, simply to prevent illness.

_Right, stay focused, Molly. _She thought, reminding herself of the question.

"I was walking home from. . . somewhere. Work, I think. A man came up behind me and covered my face with a cloth. I was already in my building complex, so I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. . . I thought I was safe. I blacked out, and woke up in. . ." she swallowed slightly before continuing, "down there." She gesture towards the room, a shudder going down her spine.

"Do you know what chemical was on the cloth?" The question came from behind her, from Sherlock. That same pull was there. Another small shiver ran down her spine. She tried to mask it, but knew she'd failed.

Now, her mind was working on that question. Before he had asked, she hadn't been thinking too heavily on the chemical, only on the affects, but as she thought about it, the answer became equally clear to her in her mind.

"It was a hospital grade anesthesia in liquid form, though it's usually in a vaporous form when used. It would have lasted at least six hours." The information was just there, and she felt a bit of happiness for being able to answer the question, even if she didn't recall how she knew that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She did. She didn't know why, but she knew it. Again, the sensory memory of a sterile environment filled her mind. A hospital smell. Had she worked at one? As what? She hated not being able to remember.

She was pulled from her thoughts by that voice again, speaking over her at the other alpha. "Lestrade, that limits who could be in charge of this facility. It certainly wasn't any of the men caught here. They were just disposable underlings."

Lestrade nodded towards him, acknowledging his words before he looked back down at her.

"Well, for now that's all, but you'll have to come down to the station to make an official statement, as well as answer a few more questions. Counseling will be available to you should you want it."

Molly nodded, though the instant he suggested counseling she shied away from it internally. She never wanted to speak to anyone about what had happened to her. Ever. "Am I fr. . . able to go then?" She asked in a small voice. She had stumbled around the word 'free.' Saying it just didn't feel right.

Lestrade, bless him, ignored the stumble. "Yes, but it goes without saying that you should stay close for a while, at least until we're ready to take your statement. With all the paperwork, it may be a few days. Do you have any family you can go to?"

She looked down and shook her head. "I don't remember much about before. . . .I guess I kind of blocked out all of the good things so I wouldn't miss them. Anyway, "she said, raising her gaze to just below his eyes, "I'll figure something out."

"No need. I already have the perfect place in mind."

"What!?" Three voices said the word in unison as they turned towards the smirking consulting detective.

* * *

Chapter 3! WHOO

To the lovely reviewers, **Freewaygirl, Adi Who Is Also Mou, MizJoely, Rocking the Redhead, MorbidbyDefault, Itmonster20, Ladybugz7, IceQueenForLife, Renassiancebooklover108, **and** Reina434**, a big thank you :) I'm always smiling thanks to you guys.

Until Next Time! :*


	4. Decisions Made

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Decisions Made**

Everyone was speechless. The implication of his words was clear. There was no need for Molly to find accommodations of her own because he had someplace in mind already.

Molly was wide-eyed and wary. Even trapped as she had been, she knew that there was almost no way anyone could make such a guarantee on the spot like that. A shiver ran down her spine.

John recognized the look in his eyes, the look that said something - usually a case - had snagged Sherlock's interest and he wasn't going to let the opportunity go.

"Sherlock, a word, now." He said forcefully, grabbing the alpha's arm and tugging him several steps away before he continued, glaring up at the taller man's raised eyebrow. "What the hell are you thinking? That - That bloody offer - is insane."

Sherlock continued to smirk as he replied. "I haven't the slightest clue what you mean. It's a perfectly logical choice."

John shook his head. "No, it's not. You can't treat her like a piece of evidence to be locked away in your flat until you're done with her. She's a real person, who has just had a horrible experience, and you can't do that to her. How is moving a traumatized, unbonded, omega into your flat even slightly a logical choice?" he demanded the last question.

He rolled his eyes. "I am obviously not treating her like evidence, John. And it _is _a logical choice. Look at the facts, though since you have once again failed to observe, it seems I must explain them."

John grit his teeth together at the insult, but seeing that it _was _Sherlock, he just nodded and crossed his arms in front of his chest, waiting for his supposedly logical explanation.

"She's involved in the case, so it would be advantageous to have her close should she recall important information. As you seem so worried about her 'traumatized state' I would also like to remind you that I have dealt with several of the stages of it myself, since you yourself were once the victim of night-terrors and post traumatic stress disorder. I am not so cruel and heartless that I would leave her to suffer alone, just as I didn't let you."

"Also, she has been drugged over a long period of time - the chances of her going into withdrawal are high, and I've also had experience with that, and therefore can recognize the signs and severity more than some common place imbecile. Since you moved out of 221B with Ms. Morstan, there is now an extra room for her to use, so it's not as if I'm requiring her to sleep on the floor or some nonsense. Lestrade also knows my contact information, so it will be easier to find her should she be in a familiar area."

"More than all of that though, this place has all the markings of a small piece of a much larger operation. She's unique, based on the conditions she was kept in. No other omega had a chain around his or her neck, just one of the oddities about her condition. They may choose to recollect her if the chance to do so is presented, which it certainly would be if she was left to her own devices."

Finally, he shut up long enough for John to get a word in. The only thing was that there was _nothing _in his explanation that could be argued against. He knew it, and Sherlock knew he knew it, the cocky prick.

"She's still an unbonded omega, and you're an unbonded alpha. That's not the best of situations, Sherlock."

He rolled his eyes. "Really John? I've dealt with omegas before during cases. You've been witness to it today as well, even those who practically sprang at me in heat. I am more than capable of ignoring her presentation. I don't do omegas, or mates. You know I'm right, quit drawing at straws."

"It's still her choice." John said, his jaw stiffening stubbornly. "You can't force her if she doesn't want to."

Sherlock smirked. "I think you'll find she's already made up her mind."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

When John pulled Sherlock away for their talk - Which to Molly looked more like the alpha was about to get a reaming from the beta - it left her with Lestrade. Awkward didn't begin to cover how she felt with the intense silence that followed. Again, it felt like everyone was watching them.

She didn't know what to think about the offer. It was all happening so fast. Not an hour ago, she'd still been trapped, waiting for the next injection, the next pain. She gripped her elbow self-consciously, feeling the grooves of the injection sights under her finger tips. It only served to remind her how broken she was.

She looked up at Lestrade, who met her gaze with an almost apologetic shrug. This time, she was able to hold his gaze for a few moments before she had to look slightly lower. At least it was something, she decided.

She cleared her throat slightly. "What should I do?" She asked softly, her gaze flicking to the other two for a moment before she returned it to him.

Lestrade seemed to actually contemplate her question before he replied. "He's an ass." There wasn't a hint of remorse for the words. "He's an arrogant, bossy prick. He drives me up the wall with his antics. We butt heads as often as we work together, and he has a blatant disregard for personal space." Finally, he took a breath, and the harshness his gaze had taken on while he'd been listing Sherlock's traits faded. His lips twisted into the barest hint of an amused smile. "But despite that, he's a great man. Off the record, he's the best chance any of us have got to shut this kind of place down permanently. He's offering you help in his own way. I'm not going to tell you what to do, seeing as you've spent the better part of two years being bossed around. Chances are, you already know what to do anyway."

Molly nodded hesitantly as she took in everything the alpha had said. From the short period she'd already communicated with Sherlock, it was easy to see that Lestrade hadn't over exaggerated in the slightest. he was crass, tactless, bossy, and had a dominating presence that was unique and nearly impossible to ignore.

But Sherlock was a chance for her to help herself. His dominating personality made her want to fight, and keep fighting until there was nothing left to fight for. And there was _always _something to fight for.

She felt without looking when Sherlock and John returned, pausing just behind her. This time, she didn't jump as he spoke.

"John has informed me that I have to ask if you'll be accepting my offer rather than simply assuming you will because I told you to." He stated. Though he'd claimed to be asking, it obviously wasn't any sort of question.

John let out an exasperated sigh.

Molly felt a bit sorry for the beta, but it didn't change her answer.

She turned to face him, and nodded. "Yes." Her eyes lingered just below his as she spoke. She couldn't quite bring herself to meet is eyes, even for an instant. She could meet John's, and Lestrade's, but him. . . she just couldn't. She could not look into his eyes and allow herself to be overwhelmed by the overflowing dominance within. In any case, she didn't have to look into them to see the cocky smirk he wore at being right.

It gave her something to begin to fight for, and as she stood there, bare in almost every sense of the word, she felt the stirrings of something inside her that had been forced to lay dormant.

And she loved it.

* * *

Chapter 4 :3 (I dunno why, but I like that emocon. :3 it looks mischievousto me XD)

Thanks so much for the reviews, **yesibelieveinsherlockholmes, Rocking the Redhead, Levavi, Freewaygirl, Scathac, Guest, jankmusic, IceQueenForLife, Mizjoely, MorbidByDefault, AvoidedIsland, valeriejoanmorgan, rennassiancebooklover108, Listrant, Reina434, **and** Silkenslay. **You're all wonderful :3

And thanks to my wonderful Beta, **Cumberburch**, for putting up with me and all my errors that would overwise be in the story XD

Until Next Time! :*


	5. Simple Gestures

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Simple Gestures**

The spark in Molly's eyes as she gave her answer surprised Sherlock, but he kept his face carefully blank aside from the smug smirk that had been there previously.

"Excellent," he said before looking back up at Lestrade. "There's nothing else for me here, so I'm going." Then, without waiting for a response from the disgruntled alpha, he turned to John. "Are you coming?"

John gave him an annoyed look but nodded. "Yes. Let's just go."

The grin was still very much in place when Sherlock nodded a final affirmative. Without really waiting for either John or Molly, he strode out of the door, leaving them to follow. In John's case, it was an eyerolling gait. In Molly's, it was a nervous shuffle of her trying to keep up and also trying to keep the shirt covering her down far enough to stay somewhat modest.

She was surprised when, as she walked out the door, a warm weight was draped over her shoulders. It had her flinching away, until she realized it was a coat, thick and so long it almost reached the floor on her. She blushed and pulled the lapels shut around her. It definitely did wonders for covering her up, making her feel enclosed.

And Sherlock's scent was _everywhere, _an all encompassing presence. She looked up only to see him striding away, hands shoved into his dress pants. He seemed relaxed, but the strange look John was giving him showed her that it was an odd behavior for the alpha.

And then she felt other eyes on her. She looked around. So many eyes, several alphas, a few betas. No other omegas. It was disconcerting. She didn't like being the center of attention.

She froze on the doorstep, wide eyed, and with no clue what to do or how to proceed.

"Are you coming or not?"

She looked up at that voice, no attempt to hide the dominant pull. He was standing in front of a cab with the door open and waiting. He looked for all the world to be an impatient, possibly aggravated, alpha. A shiver ran down her spine. She nodded, finally able to ground herself, and stepped down from the step.

"Sherlock!" Came a reprimand from the beta - it was so odd, hearing a beta yell at an alpha with that tone. Sherlock just ignored it, aside from a cocked brow.

She didn't care, really. She knew an. . . undamaged omega would be able to at least resist his tone. She could too, or she would be able to soon. She smiled softly as, without another word, she got into the cab and slid to the far side.

He got in after her. John got into the front passenger seat a few moments later. He looked into the back and gave Sherlock a disgruntled look as he pulled the door shut.

Again, Sherlock just ignored it.

The cabbie, however, did not. He was a beta, but his nose wrinkled up in distaste, as though he caught the scent of something odious. "Look boys, I dunno what kinda scam yur runnin' here, but I ain't drivin' around some common whore, get 'er outa my cab."

Everyone froze, if for just an instant.

Sherlock growled low in his throat as he pinned the cabbie with his eyes. "There are police everywhere, and you have the audacity to think I'd be stupid enough to bring a woman of that profession past them all _from _the building without their consent? She is not a whore, she is a victim of circumstance. I suggest you drive. Now."

A shiver ran down her spine. If she had thought his tone towards her was domination, it held nothing to the unconstrained anger in the order he spat at the cabbie.

The cabbie snorted, but put the car in drive. "Address?"

Everything else faded, and Molly sank against the seat. Self-consciously, she sniffed at her shirt. She almost retched. It was no wonder that even a beta could smell it, the vile odor of sex and heat and of the alphas who had used her and left traces of themselves that had sunk into the shirt.

Whore might be too soft of a term for her now.

She didn't even realize when the cab came to a stop in front of an unobtrusive little bakery, until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up with wide eyes as she was pulled from her thoughts. Oh. Just John. . . She smiled softly as she got out. He held the door for her both on the cab and up to the house. It seemed that Sherlock, while she was lost in her thoughts, had gone in ahead.

John smiled reassuringly before going upstairs ahead of her. He left the door open. She stood awkwardly at the bottom of the steps, looking around. She smelled another omega, but this one was older - past the age of mating. Still, it gave her some measure of comfort as she walked slowly up the stairs.

She gave the door a soft push and it swung open. Again she was assaulted by the strength of Sherlock's overwhelming scent everywhere. She clung to his coat, pulling it tightly around her before shutting the door. She got the feeling of being a mouse lured into the lion's den.

She heard shuffling in what could only be the drawing room, and headed towards the noise. She paused in the door way, taking in the scene before her.

The room itself was a scattered mess, but strangely there seemed to be some sort of control as well. A sort of Chaotic organization. She'd bet anything that Sherlock could find anything in the room in under a minute. There was the yellow spray painted smiley face littered with bullets on the wall. She smiled despite herself, wondering what had frustrated the alpha to the point of shooting a wall. Then her eyes fell on the skull on the mantle place. She was a bit shocked, but didn't comment. It was clean, and the marks on it showed that the person had died of natural causes.

She paused to wonder how she could possibly know that, but shook the thought away as it only made her want to frown. Hopefully she'd figure it out later. Maybe it was part of her old life, more to uncover.

Her eyes settled on Sherlock, who was laying across the couch with his hands steepled under his chin. He almost looked asleep, but there was a kind of tenseness around him that no sleeping person had.

Next, she listened for John. He was. . . somewhere. In the kitchen, she thought by the scents coming from the room. She smelled tea. Maybe he was making a cup. . . could she have some?

"You can after you wash - the bathroom's behind the door just to your left."

Her eyes immediately jerked back to Sherlock. She hadn't seen or hear him move, but suddenly he was sitting up. His elbows were on his knees, his hands still steepled, with his fingertips just touching his lips.

"How. . ."

"Never mind that, stupid question really. Go."

Though the order was there, after seeing him with the cabbie. . . there wasn't nearly as much of a pull to immediately listen and follow his direction.

Not that she didn't want to for her own reasons. She certainly didn't want to continue reeking as she did.

She nodded, still smiling. "All right. Thank you, Sherlock." she said, turning to head for the loo. She didn't miss the slight widening of his eyes. _Good, _she thought, _Maybe it's about time someone surprised him by not asking how high when he said jump._

She shut the bathroom door behind her and locked it, feeling a margin of glee at being able to decide to lock it, as opposed to a forced containment. Her choice.

She released her grip on his coat, and set it carefully on the sink counter, keeping her eyes carefully averted from the mirror. She didn't want to see herself as she was now. Turning away from it, she stripped off the t-shirt, and dropped it to the floor.

She recalled the fireplace in the drawing room. Perhaps they'd allow her to literally burn it? No, it would probably need to be collected as evidence. She sighed softly. Not much she could do for that, she supposed.

She set the water on the shower to the highest it would go. As she tested it on her forearm, she relished the burn of near boiling water. Perfect.

Without waiting another moment, she stepped into the scalding spray, and scrubbed away the grime of countless days and abuses. She used a wash rag, and some plainly scented soap to wash away the filth and scent, until she was red and raw and blessedly clean. She grabbed the only shampoo bottle there and opened it to give it an experimental sniff. Men's, which was obvious considering the person who lived here. It had a plain scent as well, nothing fancy. It just smelled clean. She put a liberal amount in her palm before setting the bottle aside, and she kneaded her head until her hair was sudsy. She rinsed and repeated, and then just stood there under the heated spray, eyes closed, for the longest time. It felt marvelous to be clean.

Of course, she couldn't stay in there forever. As the water began to finally cool, she shut it off and stepped out, wondering what she could possibly change into. It seemed strange to go back out in his coat, and there was no way she was putting the shirt on again.

Then her eyes fell to the carefully folded garments on the counter. They widened as she looked towards the door. Unlocked. She swallowed, and carefully unfolded the clothes. One of them was a simple grey shirt. It would be baggy on her, though she knew it would fit the man it belonged to perfectly. The second item was a pair of blue drawstring pajama bottoms.

Both items smelled like Sherlock.

Blushing, she put on both garments. As she thought, the shirt swallowed her whole, and the pants had to be tied extra snugly to stop them from falling down her slim frame. Even then, the pant legs were much too long for her.

Nervously, she pushed open the door and returned to the drawing room. Both of the men were there. Sherlock was back to his earlier position laying down, though his hands weren't steepled but resting his his stomach as he twiddled his thumbs together. John was sitting comfortably in an armchair. There was a tray of tea set on the table between them. She had the feeling that this was a familiar position for both of them, except for her inclusion.

"Thank you. . . for the clothes." She muttered, looking down at herself, knowing she must look like a little kid playing dress up.

"You look better now. Interesting, how much one's scent changes when it's not obscured by fear and sex."

"Bloody hell Sherlock, do you need a muzzle or something?!" John demanded, glaring at the alpha.

He only shrugged. "Just stating the obvious, John." As always, he was completely unrepentant. Then his eyes fell on her. "Tea." Not a question.

She felt her jaw harden. He really had no tact or manners at all. "You. . . are so nice at times. . . and then you're so mean. Do you try to insult everyone, even those you claim to be helping?" She didn't look up, her glare aimed at the floor, but there was no question that her words were most certainly _not _for the ground.

There was a heavy silence. No one seemed to want to break it. John was staring at her in awe at her ability to actually call Sherlock out, and Sherlock seemed speechless for the same reason. Molly was just waiting for the shoe to drop, for him to tell her to get out, or to stop whining, or -

"You're right, Miss Hooper. I apologize. Tea?"

The tension dissipated as she nodded slowly, accepted his apology and the offer of tea rather than the demand for her to drink it. She sat down in the final seat, another armchair, and picked up the remaining cup, sipping slowly to enjoy the taste.

There was silence on all parts as she finished the cup, and set it aside before pulling her legs up into the chair with her, and hugged them close, resting her head on her knees.

John glanced between the two, and cleared his throat, standing. "Right, I'll be going then Sherlock. Mary's expecting me soon. Try not to be an ass." He said, though the small smile meant he was joking. Mostly.

"I'll do my best in that endeavor, I assure you." Came the sarcastic reply.

"That's what worries me."

Molly smiled at the exchange. There was no hostility between them, despite the comments that might have suggested otherwise. It was almost like watching brothers bicker.

Of course, as he said he would, John left, and Sherlock and Molly were alone in the silence that followed.

"The bedroom you can use is upstairs on the left. There's a second bathroom up there as well to the right, but I didn't care to explain that to you earlier, as it was easier with you in the one down here." he spoke, breaking the quiet.

Molly blushed. Right. He'd come into the bathroom while she was in there. . . "How'd you get in?" she asked, looking over at him. Since he made no move to try to meet her gaze, she was able to look at his face.

"I picked the lock - obvious. You didn't have any other clothes, and I doubted you wanted to come out in nothing. Are you complaining?" He asked. She could see the smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

She shook her head. "No. . . it's just. . . odd, I guess."

"As it will be for a while yet, I imagine. I have no intention of coddling you, Miss Hooper. It wastes time, and you don't seem the kind of person who would appreciate it usually."

She nodded. He was quite correct. "And. . . the cabbie, earlier. . ."

"Forget him. He's an idiot."

She nodded again. Right.

She stood, and looked up the stairs. "I'll just. . . go to bed then."

"It's your decision, Miss Hooper."

Another nod and she headed up. She paused on the top step, glancing down at him. His eyes were closed now. "You can call me Molly, you know. I don't mind."

She didn't wait for a reply before taking the last step up, and disappearing into the bedroom.

Sherlock followed the final movement with his eyes, smirk fully displayed now. "Interesting omega indeed." he muttered, shutting his eyes to catalog the pieces of this case.

Molly, meanwhile, settled into the twin bed in the room. It had simple coverings, and didn't really smell like anything, obviously an uninhabited room. She pulled the covers up to her chin, and snuggled into the soft mattress and pillows. her eyes drifted closed, and she allowed sleep to take her, sinking into the first comfortable bed she'd had in a very long time.

* * *

Chapter 5 everyone!

Thanks so much to the lovely reviewers, **Calicar, Rocking the Redhead, Rose of Zakarisz, Misjoely, IceQueenForLife, Empress of Verace, MorbidByDefault, ReelaReela,** and **Renassiancebooklover108. **Thanks so much you guys! :3

Until Next Time!


	6. Shaken to the Core

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Shaken to the Core**

_"No! Get off me!"_

_Crying, screaming, his hands all over her, forcing her head against the disgusting ratty mattress as he shoved his dick into her, forced his knot in before she was ready. Even in the heat, it hurt more than words could express. She shrieked in outrage and struggled, but it did nothing to stop the abuse. The disgusting hands roving her body, gripping her hips, forcing her into submission. _

_"Damn whore, you love this, take it, take it all!"_

_And she did, over and over again, until she was tired, and her body was limp under his weight._

_A timer went off. The door opened, and the man was literally yanked out of her - the knot caught and it felt like she was being torn in two. It ripped another pained whine from her abused and tired body. _

_The alpha snarled, but a quick cuff shut him up, and he was forced from the room by the beta bouncers. _

_She was left, whining, torn apart inside and out, to deal with the pain of an unfulfilled heat until the next man was brought in. The next man. The next -_

"Molly!"

She jerked upright as her name was called, and her eyes flew open, locking for an instant with the alpha hovering much to close to her. She could hear a high pitched screaming as she struggled with the sheets covering her to scramble away from him. She got tangled, and fell from the bed in a jumbled heap of duvet. Still the screaming continued, combined now with the occasional wracked sob.

"S-stay aw-way. . . please. . . no more." It wasn't until she spoke, and the screaming stopped that she realized it had been her making the high pitched shrill. Now, she just curled in on herself, pulling the duvet around her and trying to gain control of her sobs, to no avail.

And the alpha was still there, hadn't moved, was watching her. She felt so vulnerable, but she couldn't find the strength to move anymore.

She felt her whole body begin to tremble, and she felt cold, and hot at the same time.

She stiffened, or tried to, when she heard a sigh, and footsteps coming closer to her. _No. Stay away. Leave me alone. _She pleaded in her mind. Of course, the alpha didn't listen.

Name. She knew his name. What was it?

Sherlock. That's it.

But that knowledge didn't stop her from cringing when he bent down beside her, and picked her up with more gentleness than she thought the man capable of. It didn't stop her from sobbing as he laid her back onto the mattress, her body shaking uncontrollably now.

He pulled the remainder of the blankets left on the bed over her, and she burrowed into the haphazard mess, cocooning herself in the makeshift nest. Even with the instinctual comfort, she couldn't stop shaking.

She let out a small whine when she felt him put a hand on her shoulder through the layers covering her. _Weight, holding her down. . . _she cringed away from the touch, and he let her go.

A few minutes passed, and they stayed like that, Molly shivering without halt under a pile of blankets, and Sherlock hovering over her, on the side of the bed.

She wondered why he was still there, why he had to see her at her weakest. Her mind couldn't focus long enough for her to make more than a small whining sound, of pain and humiliation. She could feel the sheet under her cheek getting soaked with her tears, but she didn't even have enough motivation to move to a dryer spot.

Everything ached and hurt, as though she really had just been struggling, as if she was still struggling, against an unseen force. She began to feel itchy, especially on her forearms, a horrid tingling sensation that almost burned, forcing her to tense her muscles to even slightly ease the pain. It was exhausting.

Sleep. She wanted sleep.

"Rest. You're going through withdrawal, and I suspect a night terror as well. Sleep is the only thing for it, until your body stops craving the drug they forced into you."

That voice, seeming to read her mind, broke through the barrier. A shiver ran down her spine, and she burrowed even farther into the nest, curling in on herself until her knees were against her chest, and her arms wrapped around them to keep them close to her.

_Sleep. But he's in here, alpha, danger, can't sleep, can't -_

Again, the hand was placed delicately on her shoulder, cutting off her thoughts.

"Your scent is changing. You're afraid. Don't be. You're safe here, Molly. I promise, no one will hurt you here." Deep, warmth, with the ever-present dominance and control. Now, it seemed stifled, as though he were making an effort to keep it out of his tone. Strangely, it calmed her. She was able to, well, not stop shaking, but at least not tremble as badly.

Neither of them moved. He stayed sitting on the side of the bed, quiet, just waiting for her to sleep.

And she did. After several minutes, she managed to sleep, curled into the blankets, trembling, nauseous, hot and cold at the same time, and just generally miserable. But she slept.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

That was just the first of several times it happened that night. Sometimes, she woke up screaming, others times crying. Once, she'd woken fighting, her nails digging into something solid that she never got to identify before she was asleep again, too exhausted to stay awake for more than a few minutes, despite knowing that sleep would only recall the nightmarish images.

She whined, twisted, and turned in her sleep, knocking the blankets aside often, but they were always replaced by diligent hands, a diligent man who paced the room, watching with a clinical eye as the night terrors and withdrawal plagued her.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Vaguely, Molly heard voices muttering around her. She could barely catch snatches of what was said.

"... Hospital... Not safe... Needs medical..." _Sherlock, it's not safe to leave her like this. She needs to have proper medical attention._

"... John... She'll be fine... Withdrawal... Called you... Examination... resort... week.." _John, I know it looks bad, but she'll be fine. She's in the middle of a heavy withdrawal from whatever drug they put into her. I called you here to give her an examination without needing to resort to taking her to the hospital. She's been in this condition for a little less than a week.__  
_

"... Miracles... Take her... " _I can't work miracles. Take her to the hospital._

"I can't. It's not safe."

Molly whined, finally hearing a full sentence. Her throat felt raw, and the sound cracked as it came out.

All the talking stopped, and she heard a faint scraping sound, like a chair being pushed away from a desk really fast.

"Sherlock, what are you -"

"Shut up." The alpha hissed.

a weight fell on the bed, and suddenly she was being uncovered. The light above her was too bright. She kept her eyes firmly close, scrunched together.

An arm was slid under her shoulders, and she was lifted up as something was pushed against her mouth. She make a small whimper of protest, which was shushed.

"It's just water Molly. Drink."

Again, the something - a glass, apparently - was tipped against her mouth, until just a bit of cool liquid touched her lips. At first, she parted her lips and drank hesitantly, but as the water ran down her parched throat, she swallowed quickly until the glass was pulled away.

A slight clicking let her know it was set aside, and then she was being lowered back onto the bed, and the hand was removed from around her shoulders. The weight remained, Sherlock sitting on the bed.

Molly curled on her side, facing him as she pulled the covers until all but her eyes and the top of her head was covered by the duvet. Finally, she opened them, and looked slowly up at him. He was staring down at her.

She felt tired and weak, more so than she had in a very long time, even throughout her captivity. She wanted to curl up and go back to sleep, but at the same time she felt as though she couldn't sleep another minute.

A cleared throat drew both their attention. Molly blushed and ducked her head fully under the covers, realizing that John had been there, watching the entirety of her frailty.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and stood, straightening and rolling up the sleeves on his shirt. "I told you, she'll be fine. Recovering already, though I doubt she'll be fully so for at least another week."

John let out an aggravated sigh. "She still should go to a hospital, Sherlock. She hasn't eaten in who knows how long -"

"Five days. I've gone longer." Sherlock cut up, only earning a glare from John.

"That's not healthy for either of you, idiot. Order in if it's too difficult to cook, but both of you need to eat in the next hour, or I'm sending Mrs. Hudson up here to worry over you both."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes minutely. Bit underhanded, sending Mrs. Hudson to cluck at him for eating, let alone to set the old woman on Molly. He knew John would do it too, if he didn't comply. "Fine. I'll order in. Satisfied?"

"Not really, but it's a step in the right direction."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "All right, your assistance is no longer required. You may leave."

The slightly smug look John had gained from getting his way faded into a scowl. "I'm not some on call personnel, you know."

"And yet I called, and here you are."

The scowl turned into a glare. "Prat. Just make sure to eat."

Footsteps, and a door opening, and John was gone.

Molly slowly peeled away the blankets over her head, glancing at the door, then at Sherlock. He was watching her again. She would have said it was like a wolf watching a rabbit, predator watching prey... but that analogy didn't really work. There was nothing violent about his gaze, just... overly curious, may have been a better way to describe it. Hungry for information.

Her cheeks warmed, and Molly shifted her gaze down, away from his. Her eyes landed on his arms, crossed in front of his chest now as he leaned against the wall. With the sleeves rolled up, she could see large scratches down his left forearm.

Then she recalled gripping something earlier, that she hadn't been able to identify. "Did I... do that?" She asked, mortified, and a bit scared. She'd hurt an alpha, after all. She could only expect retribution. She flinched under the covers.

Sherlock looked down at his arm, and shrugged. "It's fine." he began, " You were delirious at the time, I hold no ill will. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you managed to leave marks, in the state you were in. You're a fighter, though no one would think it just looking at you." He finished, raising his eyes back to where hers had been a moment ago, before she hid herself under the blankets.

Sherlock knew the genetics, knew the meaning behind her actions. Nesting. A nest meant safety, no matter that it was just a haphazard collection of sheets, blankets and pillows. It brought comfort to omegas in pain, or scared, or pregnant. Their uses were numerous.

It took him only a moment to figure out why she'd hidden herself again, especially with the sudden fear scent coming off of her in waves.

"I don't intend to strike you. This is the real world, Molly. Here, omegas are viewed the same as anyone else. The barbaric times of arranged marriages between alphas and omegas is long past. After you regain your memories, that will be quite plain. Now," He said, pushing off the wall. "I'm going to order the food, since John was entirely serious about sending Mrs. Hudson up here if I didn't eat, and ensure you eat, soon. While you'll meet her eventually, and probably take comfort from her since she's an omega as well, meeting her because of John's interference and her worry would not be wise."

He paused then, long enough for Molly to slowly push away the covers and sit up in the bed. Sherlock was at the door, only his head turned towards her as he waited for some sort of response. She clutched the top sheet close to her chest, and nodded.

"That would be... fine... Thank you." She muttered politely.

Scarcely had she spoken the words and he was gone, bounding down the stairs to do... whatever it was he was doing.

Molly assumed she was meant to prepare herself up here, and join him when she was ready.

* * *

Chapter 6 at last!

**Reina434, Rocking the Redhead, Rose of Zakarisz, IceQueenForLife, MorbidbyDefault, MizJoely, Renaissancebooklover108, lucy, Guest, andalusa, Manoella Nascimento, RavenclawPianist, **and** inlovewithlove5684, **thank you soo much to each and every one of your for your reviews! They are always a pleasure to read.

And Thank you to my lovely beta, Cumberburch. You, madam, are amazing!

Any mistakes remaining are my own.

Until Next Time! :*


	7. Strength in the Frailty

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Strength in the Frailty**

Molly spent more time than she'd care to admit just sitting up in the bed, working up the energy to scoot to the edge and put her feet on the cold wood floor.

She stood, but instantly regretted it as her knees buckled and her legs slid out from under her. She let out a soft whine as her shins banged on the hard floor. The legs on her pajama bottoms did nothing to soften the blow.

She stayed there for a bit, trying to get her heart to stop beating so loudly. Now that she'd tried to move, she realized how utterly exhausted she was, even after al lthe sleep she'd seemed to have gotten. Then again, that hadn't been a proper rest.

Four days. Had she really been out that long?

She ground her teeth together, and gripped the edge of the bed to hoist herself up. She refused to wait for help. She could bloody well walk herself.

Her legs were shaky under her, but she gripped the bed post until she was reasonably certain that she'd stay upright. She managed, just barely, as she let go.

It was slower than she would have liked, but she managed to lift one foot in front of the other, until she was standing in the door frame, leaning against it. Again, her heart was beating fast. It felt as though she'd just run a marathon, and it wasn't even over yet.

She paled slightly, looking out on the flight of stairs. When she got here, the twenty steps had been nothing. Now, she may as well have been descending the steps of the great wall of China. Okay, that may have been a stretch, but it still seemed daunting, looking at it now.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the door frame, and quickly wrapped her fingers around the banister. Still, she hesitated at the top of the stairs. Falling would not be very pleasant from up here.

Staying up here would be ridiculous though.

Swallowing, she took the first tentative step.

Great. Only nineteen more to go.

_Relax, you can do this Molly. It's just a few steps. _

At a snail's pace, she took the rest of the steps. She had to pause to stop her legs from shaking occasionally, but she kept moving step by slow, agonizing step.

Thankfully, in her mind at least, Sherlock wasn't there to see any more of her weakness. She could hear him moving around in what she could only assume to be the kitchen.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, she paused, and allowed herself to sit down on the last step. She felt drained, pathetic and weak in the face of a few measly stairs. It was ridiculous. She was stronger than this.

Letting out an aggravated huff, Molly forced herself back to her feet using the banister to pull herself up, just as she had with the bedpost.

With stiff limbs, she walked into the kitchen, keeping her gaze down to watch her steps until she reached the table and was able to take a proper seat in one of the dining chairs.

She could hear Sherlock in the room, but she was focused on not slumping against the table, so she didn't see him come up to her until the white Styrofoam tray was placed in front of her. She jerked away from it instinctively, and the fast motion left her almost nauseous. At the same time, the scents wafting up from the tray made her salivate, making her realize how long it had been since she'd eaten any sort of good meal.

She looked up at Sherlock as he stepped away, then back down at the food in front of her. It was Chinese, some sort of takeaway. She couldn't think of what the dish was called at the moment, but it looked delicious, chunks of seasoned chicken mixed with water chestnuts, baby corns, onions, carrots, and broccoli, sitting on a bed of sticky rice. Sitting on top of it all were the chopsticks, but she knew she wouldn't have the coordination to eat properly with them.

She picked up the useless utensils and frowned as she set them aside. Who honestly thought two sticks were a viable eating implement? Still, she didn't want to eat with her hands like some animal. She'd done much too much of that already.

Before she could voice any of her thoughts, a cup was placed in front of her as well, and a fork was held expectantly out to her. She took it hesitantly, barely looking up at Sherlock.

"Thank you." She said softly, looking back down at her food as she began to pick at it lightly. Despite her hunger, she didn't want to immediately gorge herself. If she did, she was certain it would make her sick. It was never good to go from eating barely anything to eating a lot all at once. It even killed some people whose stomachs couldn't handle it and ruptured.

_And how exactly do I know that? _

The look of confusion on her face must have shown something, because Sherlock, who'd claimed his own seat at the other side of the table to eat his forced meal, set his chopsticks aside and turned his full attention on her. "What is it?"

Molly swallowed her current bite of food hastily, and washed it down with a quick sip of her drink - a light tea with plenty of milk and sugar - to stall. Even so, her cheeks were a bit red, having his analytical gaze suddenly turned on her again.

She had to look down before replying. "It's silly, really... just a little odd fact. I don't even know where I learned it."

"What fact? It may seem banal to you, but it could be very important." He leaned forward and had his elbows on the table. His hands were together and his finger tips were pressed to his lips.

"It's just that... If someone who doesn't eat for a long time suddenly eats a lot all at once, there's a chance that they could die due to a tearing in the stomach, causing the contents of the stomach, whatever was eaten and the acid inside, to spread rapidly to vital organs." It sounded even more gruesome than when it was just a thought. She waited for the inevitable odd look. After all, what kind of person would have such strange, disgusting thoughts while they're eating?

Instead, Sherlock just smirked, and leaned back in his chair. "You're right. It is merely a random tidbit, though it does help in one aspect - I can confirm that you are in the medical field, though I'd already suspected as much from the small cuts on the tips of your fingers where the scalpel slipped. Finish your meal Molly." With the final statement, Sherlock stood and went into the drawing room, out of sight, leaving Molly to her thoughts.

Medical. She's always been able to remember the scent of rubbing alcohol, and of rubber gloves. Well, it was well known that the sense of smell, even in betas, was the best sense and had the longest memory. She looked down at her hand, at the pad of her right index finger, and ran the pad of her thumb across the small scars there. They were rough, but somehow comforting. It felt like a familiar gesture. Maybe she had made it often back when she had worked.

She wasn't much for eating anymore, so she stood carefully. She felt a bit stronger now thanks to the meal, however small it was, so she was able to step away from the table without using anything to support herself. She closed the food up, and, noticing that Sherlock had left his open as well and seemed to have no plan to eat any more anytime soon, she gathered his up as well and moved to stick it in the fridge.

The sight that greeted her as she opened up the door should have revolted her. Instead, she stared calmly at the severed leg for a moment, before setting the containers on the clean shelf above it, and shutting it. She couldn't say why the appendage didn't bother her more, but something told her it was - mostly - innocuous, aside from the slightly rotten smell.

Pleased to be able to move a bit, she collected their silverware and cups, and rinsed them off before placing them in the sink. It felt good to do something so simple, so normal again.

Smiling softly at her small accomplishments, she wandered into the drawing room, pausing slightly as she saw Sherlock in the same position he'd been in the last time she was in here, laying down on the couch with his hands steepled and his fingertips against his lips.

_Must be his thinking position or something. _She thought absentmindedly, sitting down in one of the available arm chairs and pulling her legs up to cradle them as she watched him.

She felt drawn to him, and the more she looked, the more she thought she recognized him from somewhere. If only she could pin exactly where. Maybe she was imagining things, and they'd never met. Maybe she was clinging to an imagined past. She didn't know. She just knew that, as she watched him deep in thought, she felt safe.

* * *

Chapter 7 done! Very domestic, don't you think? :3

Thank you soo much to the reviewers, **Renassiancebooklover108, MorbidbyDefault, Rose of Zakarisz, IceQueenForLive, MizJoely, Aquitaine85, Freewaygirl, cshorey100, NiceNipps,** and **Starcrier.** You all are wonderful!

And thanks to **Cumberburch**, my wonderful Beta!

Until Next Time! :*


End file.
